So, this fine December finds me in a bit of a pickle. November, apparently, was the month of eventfulness, probably originating from some ancient Greek tradition, something with wine and orgies. Sounds awesome. Anyway, as well as being Movember (http://www.movember.com/) and NaNoWriMo (http://www.nanowrimo.org/), it was just so busy for me personally. Those ancient Greeks and their crazy voodoo shenanigans...
So, you know, about NaNoWriMo. I partook of this. If you were too lazy to click the damn link, please do so now. It's relevant. Um, so, I participated, attempting to write a story 50k words long in a month. I failed. Miserably.
Now, the misery of my failure comes not only from the pathetic word count I achieved (less than half my goal,) but also from my general state of mind. I failed, and I was miserable, combine the two=miserable failure. That's me. I was miserable, I am miserable, and as far as I can see, the future holds much the same in store. Yup. Ever the optimist, that's me. No, seriously though, I used to consider myself optimistic. I don't anymore. It sucks.
So, I can offer up a variety of excuses for said failure. I will now proceed to do that exactly, and by so doing shall also reveal some of my proceedings over the past month.
Early on in the month, I got moved to a different position in the army. I say "different," but the truth is I didn't actually have a position until now, so, you know, whatever. So now I get to sit in a control room for 8 hours, then come home for a day or so. This happens 3 times a week. Supposedly, loads of free time. Here's what happened to all that:
I suck.
No, seriously. I mean, seriously, I suck. But also, I will explain what I managed to waste/spend my time on, aside from the WriMo. So, I've been taking guitar and voice lessons. I suck. I also attended choir practice with my old music teacher from high school. Need I mention that I suck?
I've been going for runs. At least, I went for crazy long runs in the heat all week, this one week, and I found out that my body hates me. The feeling is mutual. But it bloody started it. I'm fuggin' tired. Oh, my god. I don't capitalize that word, on purpose. No big eel. Bah! rambling. I must desist, and return to the course of events I was heretofore detailing.
So I drained what energies the army let me keep (not much. I get to do night and evening shifts, with long bus rides each way and a chance of sleeping on a lousy mattress in the cold. Also, I hate the army and I want out. I spend much of my free time contemplating this,) running. This left me an empty husk of an empty husk, under the assumption that, at my best, I'm no more than an empty husk. Bah! I suck.
Err. Where was I? So, also, I have a girlfriend now. So, basically, whenever I'm home, I go see her. Or, she comes to see me. That's not the point! Stop that! you're distracting me! I demand you cease and desist immediately! Right now!
So, we meet. And I, displaying uncanny Don-Juan-like aptitude in the art of romance, am miserable. See, I get to thinking. Yes, I do this sometimes, it's a bad habit of mine, and I can't help but wonder, at times, whether it would be better to stamp down on this foolish instinct, and refuse to acknowledge it in the slightest, much less give it the stage as I write this foolish, lonely, misbegotten blog. Misbeblogten. Maybe that should be its name. Anyway.
So, my girlfriend. If I had to introduce her to you, I could do so in a few simple words: You know me, right? Well, same idea.
Now, this is a terrible way to introduce someone, a terrible way to think of someone, and an awful, awful shadow to have hanging over a relationship. Specifics: she is nearly three years younger than I am, and yet she: Likes the same music I do, plays the guitar, takes voice lessons, runs, thinks like me, talks like me, writes. So, you know, this is the censored version. Because, when I think it, it doesn't go like that. When I think it, there's the slight addition of "but better" after each item.
She likes the same music, only she knows it better, knows more of it, etc. She plays the guitar longer than I have, and better, more professionally, yada yada. She takes voice lessons longer, and obviously sings better, what with my amateur screeches and asthmatic wheezing. She paints, and sculpts. I used to do that. It's one of my lost and wasted non-talents. She does Tae-Kwon-Do. Really well. For years. She's, I don't know, some kind of black belt, world class, went to loads of competitions abroad, before she stopped competing. I will never, ever, be that good at anything. I suck. I might have mentioned something about that.
She reads more than I do, and knows all sorts of classics. She runs, she even runs in competitions. She runs well. She goes to music concerts, movies, festivals. Things. She does things. I don't do things. I go to the army. It isn't fair. Whenever I'm back from the army, I go be with her, and then, while I'm there, she has time to do cool things and gain a lead on me. As if she needed it. I'm three fucking years ahead, and yet I'm a lifetime behind. Like, literally. I have no life. I'm a nothing. god, how I hate myself.
You know the game Set? It doesn't matter. Anyway, I'm pretty good at that game. Once, when we were at her place, we played. So, I didn't think much of it at first, but apparently, around the house, between the family, she's supposed to be unbeatable. Well, so am I, but I don't fuckin' brag about it! So we tied. I was quite pleased, because it seemed like an outcome we could both be content with. But oh, no! She expected to beat me to dust, and her mother was all, like "Oh, you don't know what you're up against, you got lucky," or whatever. We stayed tied. goddammit.
I have this thing, where I used to make cookies for my friends' birthdays. They're damn good cookies, by the way. So, she's got a thing too, only... This is getting more pathetic by the minute. Let's get back to the larger picture.
So, suffice it to say, there are some striking similarities between us, which I probably failed to illustrate. And, despite knowing full well that it's impossible, I can't help but feel she's just better than me. At everything.
Now, this feeling is not unfamiliar to me. I have felt this with each girlfriend I have had. If anything, this is not as acute a case as I've had in the past. All things considered, I could feel much more threatened. I do think she is as similar a girlfriend as I've ever had. Not many people are so much like me. Also, this complex is compounded by the backdrop of army "life," identity crisis, and change. I'm so tired... also, I do something, but I can't quite recall what. Wait, I think I might have written something about it in this post, let me just scroll up a minute.... Wait a second... Um... There it is! Suck! That's the word I was looking for! I suck!
So, November, huh?
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